


Freaks on a Leash

by Heavenlea6292, snarkangel (eskimita)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, BDSM, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Dom Lucifer, Dom/sub, F/M, Gore, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Over Protective Dean, Over protective Castiel, Puppy dog Sam, Rape/Non-con Elements, Seriously this is some dark shit, Slavery, Sub Sam, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Switch Meg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:26:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenlea6292/pseuds/Heavenlea6292, https://archiveofourown.org/users/eskimita/pseuds/snarkangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where God abandoned his creations, leaving the door wide open for Lucifer to conquer both heaven and earth, demons are the ruling class, angels and humans just pets. Meg, Lucifer's favorite sub, has been rewarded by her master, and gifted with three pets of her own. Sam, Castiel, and Dean have been together for years, subjected to the cruel treatment that their former master, Alistair, enjoyed. What does life with Meg have in store for the three?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an extremely dark AU. Do not read this if rape and torture squick you. Seriously, don't.
> 
> This was written in the very dark corners of our minds, where no one should ever go. It's basically an excuse to torture Sam and Dean and Cas. That's how we roll.
> 
> I (eskimita) write Lucifer and Sam.  
> The lovely Heavenly6292 writes Dean, Cas, and Meg.
> 
> Flames will be fed to my Sherlock muse. Seriously, that's not a good thing.

Ruling over heaven and earth, Lucifer had decided, was something that he quite enjoyed. After God had abandoned the angels in Heaven and Lucifer had managed to escape hell, taking over the earth had been an easy task to accomplish. The other angels, his brothers, had no idea how to rule over themselves, much less the measly humans on earth. Lucifer had practically ridden through the pearly gates and taken over the throne. Once Michael had been dealt with, it had been a simple task to bring the angels into line and put them and the humans in their rightful places.

The new age, with Lucifer as ruler, was one that he found quite fulfilling. He still had his demons to do his bidding, and the humans to amuse himself with. There were still attempts at rebellion from the angels. Overall, Lucifer was content with the current status quo. Most of all, Lucifer was content with his pet. She had been a faithful servant to him. And Lucifer, unlike his Father before him, would reward his faithful servants.

"Meg, pet, come here. I have something to give you."

  
Meg was an easily satisfied creature. She knew where her heart laid from the moment she turned into a demon- her God, her father, her master was where all of her passion was laid. She would burn down the earth for him, her dark and beautiful master. She would pluck the wings from angels and the souls from humans. She would kill for him.

And unlike any other being in the universe, she would happily humble herself at his feet, and take whatever he saw fit to give her. Be it affection or pain, she was willing to absorb anything that he would bestow on her, ever his humble servant. This was her life, and it brought her fulfillment, satisfaction.

The concept of angels and humans as pets had baffled her when he first spoke of it. She knew what the humans were to him- horrible abortions, perversions of angels. The idea that he would want to keep them for amusement was odd- she hated demons like herself, and wanted nothing more than to flay them to death. Of course, she understood the desire to keep his brothers and sisters as pets- they had betrayed him, worked against him; they deserved nothing but the hell he so righteously put them through. But keeping them alive...she thought it was dangerous. She would never question him, but it concerned her.

She heard him call out to her and she moved towards him eagerly, her eyes downcast. It was customary that no slave should look into the eyes of their Master out of fear, but she did so out of respect, passionate devotion.

"Master," she said softly, her voice filled with adoration.

 

Lucifer waited until Meg was close enough to grab before reaching out, twisting his  hand in her hair and pulling. Favored though she may be, Lucifer saw no need to be gentle with her. He knew that his pet could take it. She was strong enough to take almost anything his heart desired.

"My faithful pet, you have served me well. You have done everything I have asked of you. For that, I will reward you." He snapped his fingers at an angel standing silently in the corner, beckoning the disgusting creature to open the door to his right. "Alistair has attempted to rise against me and so I must punish him. I have taken the things he holds dearest away from him. They are yours now, my pet. Your own pets to play with."

He pulled on her curls, forcing her to look up as the angel pulled three slaves into the room. Two of them, the humans, wore steel collars around their necks, chains leading down to the cuffs around their wrists and ankles. The third, an angel, was free of a collar and chains. Instead, he wore a brace around his wrist, of Lucifer's invention. It was designed to contain and control the Grace of the angels, to keep them from rising against him.

"These were Alistair's favorite pets. He broke them in quite well. Now, they are yours. They should be quite obedient. If they aren't, you know how to bring them in line."

 She felt his hand in her hair; digging, twisting, dragging her forward; and she soaked it up like a plant does water. She knew his hands, rough though they may be, were filled with love, with divinity. To be touched in any way was a blessing.

"Of course, Master," she said, keeping her eyes down, "My pleasure comes from your pleasure." But the promise of a reward sent tingles up and down her spine. Lucifer didn't often bestow gifts on anyone, even her. What gift would he give her?

She slid her gaze over towards the angel in the corner that he snapped at, excited. She could've never, in her wildest dreams, imagined that he would give her one of his siblings. It was an honor she could barely grasp. She felt his grip on her hair twist, forcing her head up to take in three new pets, which she did eagerly. She observed them with icy eyes, two humans and the angel. They were fine creatures- the tallest had frightened, sweet eyes, pretty lips that seemed to tremble with every word that was spoken. The second human was defiant- she could taste the disobedience rolling off him- his chin thrust high in the air and his green eyes flashing with anger. And then the angel- glowering, his face impassive but his ice-blue eyes revealing cool calculation.

She looked back up at Lucifer hesitantly, unsure if she was permitted to make eye contact with him.

"Thank you Master, I'm sure I will have no troubles with them," she said, "I am so thankful for your gift."

 

Lucifer gifted the demon with a cold smile before releasing her hair and pushing her away from him. There were other matters for him to tend do, as enjoyable as he found his pet. He would take his pleasure from her later. He knew what his priorities were, and pleasure ranked far below ensuring that his wayward brothers remembered their place below him.

"Go and deal with your new toys. I will take my thanks from you tonight. They are to stay in your rooms unless I tell you to bring them out. Make sure they understand this. The shorter human is... challenged, when it comes to obeying orders."

Lucifer leered at the humans before standing up and approaching Meg's new angel. Claw-like fingers reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up and meet Lucifer's eyes. "You would do well to remember, brother, that it was your brothers, the other angels who abandoned you to this fate. The foolish dreams you still harbor of our Father returning will come to an end. There is no rescue for you."

With that, Lucifer left the throne room, ignoring the slaves behind him.

 

Sam could not remember a time when he had not been a slave. Dean had always told him that they existed, that they used to be free, before Sam was a year old, but Sam had no memory of it. As far as Sam knew, he and Dean had been slaves since the day Azazel slew their parents. Alistair, their last Master, had been one of many in a string of cruel demons who strove to break the two unusually resilient humans. Sam had no idea what it was Alistair had done to displease Lucifer, but it must have been something extremely serious if he, Dean, and Castiel were being given to another demon.

As carefully as he could, Sam raised hazel eyes to survey his new Mistress, doing his best not to be caught. When he had a fair idea of what she looked like, his gaze returned to his brother's left shoulder. Dean, as usual, had put himself and Castiel in front of Sam, attempting to protect him from the demon they were being gifted to. Sam sighed quietly and squared his shoulders, waiting for an order from the demon.

She soaked up his smile, her heart leaping into her throat as it always did when he smiled. She stumbled as he threw her away from him, regaining her footing and keeping her chin down while still in his presence, in respect. He was always rough, but she was sturdy- she could take anything he dished out to her.

"I will make it abundantly clear what the expectations are, Master," she said firmly, watching with curiosity as he grabbed the angel's chin and chided him. This angel hoped for some sort of rescue? That his God would return? At firstm she felt a peal of cold fury surge through her at his insolense. There was only _one_ God- _her_ God. But she brushed it aside as Lucifer swept from the room. Her chin snapped up, giving her new toys a lofty, icy stare.

They had all seemed to crowd around the tallest one, as if they could protect him from her.

"I am your new mistress," she barked, "I expect you to follow my every command as swiftly and as effectively as possible. I do not tolerate disobedience. You," she snapped, pointing at Dean, "Human name. Speak."

Dean hated the way this demon looked at them, in fact, he hated everything about the disgusting, hateful creature. He was a slave, and now he was being given to another slave; something that added insult to injury. He'd been a slave so long that this was all nearly second nature to him, but the thought of having to obey this thing? He'd rather swallow his own tongue, fuck you very much. He had crowded close to Sam, trying to block him from Lucifer's and Meg's gaze, daring anyone to come near his brother. When she pointed at him, demanding his name, he stared back at her with hate filled eyes, his lips pressed together.

 Meg stared up at him hard, turning to the human behind him.

"You. Forward."

 Sam, conditioned by a lifetime of being a slave, took half a step forward before he glanced at his brother and stopped. Dean, no matter how many demons they'd been handed off to, had never once bowed his head or showed his submission. Every time Sam did, he knew that Dean was disappointed in him. He saw it in the way his brother's neck tightened, like he was locking his jaw together. Instead of stepping forward as he'd been instructed, Sam stepped behind Dean fully, ducking his head down in an attempt to hide himself behind the shorter man. He refused to raise his gaze above his own bare feet, refused to show any more weakness than he had already allowed himself to show. If Dean could be strong in the face of yet another demon who owned them, then so could Sam. He could do it for his brother.

Castiel watched the show, a hint of admiration for this very tiny demon, who was trying to make herself intimidating. If it weren't for the cuff on his wrist, he was confident that he could smite her easily; and yet she was now his master. The cruel irony was not lost on him. He resisted the urge to scoff at her, a smirk spreading across his face. Did she think she could command Dean Winchester so easily? She must not have been a very smart demon, if that was the case. Dean Winchester surrendered to no one- he was like a wild horse. He had to be broken down, and even then- he was only play-acting. No one had broken the spirited and rage-filled human yet, and he didn't expect this creature could either.

But when he heard her command that Sam step forward, he knew that she had already picked up on what many other masters before had- to punish Dean, it seemed, the most effective thing to do was punish Sam. He wasn't concerned much for Sam, he knew that his concern would just be wasted on him, just another abomination, like the one in front of them. But his concern for Dean was the knowledge that whatever happened to Sam would make Dean sick to his heart, and he didn't want Dean to suffer that.

But Sam only moved further behind Dean, dropping his head. Well, the abomination had a bit of defiance in him. Castiel was so sure that Alistair had taken all of that out of him.

Dean himself felt a satisfied smile spread across his face, his chin lifting higher, if at all possible. _That's right, bitch_ , he thought to himself, _Fuck you. We ain't playing your fucking game_. He wanted to praise Sammy, but that could wait until later. He glared down at the smaller demon, daring her to pull her next move.

Meg looked between the two of them, her jaw clenching and unclenching, glancing over at the angel.

Who was smirking, of all things.

So, it seemed that they had all decided that she would be a pushover, huh? Well, she wasn't about to stand for that. She reached out and grabbed the chain that hung around the defiant one's neck, jerking it hard enough that he fell forward on his hands and knees. Dean was shocked by the strength that she had, but he refused to show it. He refused to look up at her, instead glaring at the floor beneath his hands. Fuck her. 

Stpic and silent, huh? She'd break him of that. She wound her foot back and delivered a crushing kick to his arm, sweeping it out from underneath him and slamming his face off the floor.

"Now, speak. Unless you'd enjoy a severe punishment on your first day here," she commanded. First impressions were important, and she was about to give him one hell of an impression if his attitude didn't change. 

 Dean refused to even move, his face pressed against the floor , blood streaming from his nose. He wasn't telling her shit- punish him if she wanted to, he wasn't going to say a single word. He wasn't playing this bitch's game.

 "Dean."

Meg turned to see that the Angel had taken a stance of humbleness before her, his eyes downcast. So, he'd come around quicker than expected- it was usally the angels who needed breaking, not the humans. 

"Fuck you, Cas," Dean spat, glaring up at the angel. The angel merely shrugged, before point at the other human.

"And that one is Sam."

Good. Now they were getting somewhere. Meg walked over to the angel, grabbing his chin.

"And your name?"

"Castiel," he said softly, "The humans don't...adjust well to change."  
"Not a huge fan of being a slave to a slave," Dean hissed at the floor.   
  
Meg was about to strike out at him again, when the taller one, Sam, threw himself over the defiant one, Dean's, body. The angel had reached out to stop him, but it was no use, and she toook careful noteof that reaction. 

Watching the demon pull Dean down and kick him, Sam winced. He stepped forward, reaching out for his brother. He could feel Castiel reaching to stop him but he threw the angel's hand off his arm, throwing himself over Dean on the floor. No matter how many times he saw Dean punished by another demon, no matter how many times Dean told him that he was fine, that he didn't care if he was punished, Sam couldn't stand it.

Pleading eyes turned up to their new mistress, unconsciously begging her to stop punishing Dean. Sam had long ago learned that he could stop almost any demon from beating his brother if he turned a pleading look on them. Alistair had hypothesized that Azazel had done something to him the night he killed their parents, but Sam and Dean had never figured out if that was true or not.

Protectively crouched over his brother, Sam reached one hand out, pressing his fingers to their new mistress's ankle. "Mistress, please."

Castiel glared at Sam, his body thrown over Dean's and begging their new master. Of course, it wasn't much different than what he himself had done only moments before, but still.

Dean could feel the warmth of his brother's body so close to him, and he wanted to curse. _Don't throw yourself in the line of fire for me, you idiot, just keep quiet and safe_ , he thought to himself, knowing that it was just a lie. There was no way to really keep sam safe. So he remained defiant, body bowed and mouth shut.

 She stared down at the human who was imploring her not to punish the defiant one anymore. She felt her heart soften for a second, looking into those wide, green eyes. She turned her back to them, snapping her fingers and putting as much steel as she could in her voice.

"I'm in a good mood today. Stand, and follow me."

 Castiel bent down to help Dean to his feet, only to have his hands slapped away.

"I don't want your help," Dean hissed, taking the hand Sammy offered him and pulling himself upright. There was no use in fighting anymore, and he trailed after the demon woman, his head still held high. He may not be fighting, but he was still going to show her that he knew he was better than her. He was a human being, a person. And she was nothing but a dirty fucking demon. 

"Stay behind me, Sam," Dean whispered. Castiel ignored the both of them, throwing a glare at Sam and pushing ahead to stand in front of Dean.

Dean wasn't the only one hellbent on protecting someone.

"Shut up Dean. I'm fine." Dean was the only person Sam managed to defy without making himself feel sick. It was probably because Dean was his brother, an ever annoying presence in his world. Every time Dean decided that he was going to protect Sam by being stupid and disobeying the demons who owned them, Sam couldn't help but want to slap his brother. Dean had always treated him like he was nothing but a baby.

He ignored Castiel's glare as he walked behind Dean. He knew the angel couldn't stand him. Just as demons were uncommonly drawn to him, all angels Sam had ever met hated him. They all treated him like he had done something absolutely horrible to them. Considering that he had never done anything exceptional in his life, Sam could not fathom why the angels hated him or why the demons all seemed to soften to him.

Castiel, more than any other angel Sam had met, seemed to despise him. He'd heard the angel lecturing Dean, telling him that Sam was not worth risking his own hide for, that Sam was an abomination. It had hurt, initially, but Sam had long since stopped caring. Castiel only cared for Dean. What happened to Sam had no effect on the angel.

As they followed the demon through the halls of Lucifer's home, Sam couldn't help but take in all the other demons they passed, watching them with curiosity. One, a tiny brunette, watched him with hungry eyes that left Sam feeling relatively uncomfortable. He had never grown accustomed to the fact that demons seemed to drool over his body. Instead of meeting the demon's eyes again, Sam focused on the back of his mistress's head, determined not to draw more attention to himself.

Their arguing and whispers did not go unnoticed by Meg, and she took careful stockof the alliances they had. Sam and Dean, brothers. Castiel- in love with Dean. Castiel- appeared to dislike Sam. And Sam? he was a bit of a mystery. No one had ever appealed to the gentle side of her, that she didn't even know still existed.

As they walked through the expansive home, She sent a glare out at every staring demon like a shockwave, making them drop their gaze until she passed. She may have only been a servant herself- but she was the head. She was Lucifer's favorite, and they knew that with a crook of her finger, they would be subjected to whatever torture she desired for them. Lucifer never cared much what she did when keeping the others in line, just so long as it was done, and no one died.

 

Castiel stared at each of the disgusting creatures around them, staring with curiosity, his face like stone. In the devil's den- literally. Things were going to be much more difficult now. He watched as Dean's head seemed to be spinning on his shoulders, taking in everything as quickly as possible. Dean was trying to get the lay of the land, so that maybe, just maybe, he could get him, Cas, and Sam out of there. He'd only ever been nearly successful once in an escape attempt, and he still bore the scars from that attempt. But still- this demon was tiny, and just a slave herself. She would be easy to get away from.

"Don't, Dean," Cas commanded softly, "Don't you dare."  
"Shut up," Dean hissed back.  
"How about both of you shut your howlers?" Meg demanded, pulling open the double doors on her own quarters, "Inside. Now."

Sam had stayed out of Dean and Cas's argument, as he always did. If he was to comment on it, Dean would tell him to stop interrupting the 'big boy's' conversation and Cas would never consider something Sam had to say to be of value anyhow. So instead, he stayed silent, thankfully sparing himself a rebuke from the demon in front of them. When she opened the door to her quarters, Sam followed the other two men into the rooms, keeping his head ducked down. Years of practice had helped him to learn how to make himself as small as possible. Inside the rooms, Sam stood awkwardly, unsure of what this demon would demand of them. Most wanted them to kneel in their presence. Some desired that they be naked constantly. Alistair had forced them to prostrate themselves, arms thrown forward as if in supplication. This new demon, Sam couldn't get a read on. He had no idea what she would demand of them.

Sam, more than the other two, had come to accept that his life would never be pleasant. Dean still had the memories of their parents, of love. Castle had memories of God and heaven. Sam, though, had never known anything but slavery. Some masters were kinder than others, some treated him with downright affection. Some, though, were the stuff of nightmares. He wasn't quite sure what this new mistress would be.

Alistair had been the worst of their masters. As much as Dean tried to protect him, it had gone no good with Alistair. The demon had seen how protective Dean was of Sam and used that against them both. Sam doubted that his brother would ever forgive himself for the things Alistair had forced him to do to Sam.

Whatever this new demon was like, Sam prayed to a God who had long ago abandoned them that she wouldn't do that. If she did that, he just knew that his brother wouldn't survive it.

She watched them all, trying to gauge their reactions to being alone with her. Dean looked as defiant as ever, while Cas appeared to humble himself and Sam managed to make himself look downright tiny. She resisted the urge to laugh, slamming her doors shut.

"Sit," she commanded, eyeing them sharply. Castiel and Sam seemed to immeadiately obey, whereas the two of them grabbed onto Dean and yanked him down with them for him to sit.  Dean shook off their hands, glaring at each of them in turn. Suddenly, they were acting like obedient dogs. She stood over them, her arms folded across her chest.

"As you know, I am your new mistress. You may call me Mistress or Ma'am, except on occasions in which I direct you otherwise. I will only warn you once if you disobey this rule, it's very simple and I'm sure even Chuckles over here," she said, nudging Dean with her foot, "Can remember it. You will not be permitted outside of my rooms unless I or my Master say otherwise. There will be no warning if you disobey that rule. You are not to speak to any of the other slaves here. They are not to speak to you. Should any of them approach you, you are to ignore them. Should any of them touch you, you are to come directly to me. There is no warning for this rule either. If you do not come to me, you both will be punished."

She stared down at them, sitting down on a small lounging chair near them. She kept sharp eye contact with Dean as he stared her down, not blinking as she continued.

"I prefer my toys do not smell. There are bathing facilities avalible to you in these rooms. You will use them, that is not negotiable. If you ever feel the desire not to bathe, I assure you, I will beat it out of you, and you'll find that my methods of bathing you will be far more unpleseant than your beating. You are to keep yourselves groomed, clean, and you are required to eat. If you refuse to eat, I will force feed you."

She knew that humans were prone to hunger strikes, and she wasn't about to let any of them starve themselves. She'd seen the defiance of humans before- Lucifer would look over them daily with amusement as their faces became hollowed and gaunt, smirking. they weren't worth anything to him- they could do as they pleasde. If dying was their perogative, he didn't care. Just as long as they suffered. Meg, on the other hand, didn't want that for her new slaves. Mostly because they were a gift from her Master, and she didn't want to disappoint him by having to report that they starved themselves. 

"At night, you will be locked in. I am not here for much of the night, so what you do then, so long as it does not disobey any of my rules, is your business. When I return, you well tend to me. I sleep rather late, therefore you will too. Your responsibilities will be to keep these rooms clean, follow the rules, and satisfy me. Very simple."

Dean had blinked, but hadn't stopped staring at her, until she flicked her eyes black, sending a shiver of fear down his spine. He may have found her unintimidating with a round human face and a soft human body, but those eyes always reminded him of the horrors that she could inflict. Like the horrors that Alistair made him inflict on his brother. He suddenlt felt sick, his skin going cold and clammy as she continued.

"Punishments vary, given the infraction and how many times you have broken the rule. I am very creative, so avoid angering me. You will all be undressed in my presence at all times. If you are required to leave the room, I will provide you with appropriate covering. I have a high sexual appetite. All of you will be required to satisfy that. You are permitted to engage in whatever sexual acts you so choose when I am not here for your own pleasure, but bear in mind that a failure to perform at my request will be punished. The rest we will cover as it comes up."

 Dean snorted loudly, much to both Sam's and Cas's horror.

"So, what, we're your fuck toys or something?" Dean demanded, glaring up at her, "Great. Now I'm a whore's fucking dildo. That's fantastic."

"Dean!" Castiel hissed.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam listened to their new mistress's instructions silently, ignoring Dean and Castiel's outburst. Once everyone had finished speaking, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. Already, she was better than Alistair had been. Except for the bruises on Dean's arm and cheek, none of them were injured yet. Sam, conditioned to slavery as he had been throughout his life, considered that a blessing. Looking up, eyes meeting Meg's chin, Sam spoke up for the first time, voice soft. "Would you like us to strip now, Mistress?"

She glared at Dean, holding out a hand to stop Sam from speaking. So willing to obey, so eager to please and cover for his brother's insubordination. She did not admire that in a slave. Then again, she didn't admire slaves at all. 

"No. I want to deal with your insolent brother first," she snapped, bending down and grabbing Dean's face, "You're going to find out very quickly what an awful idea it is to get on my bad side, boy."  
"Oh, I am just dying to find out how mean you are, bitch," he spat at her, glaring. She was going to punish him, big whoop. He was just pleased to find a chink in her bitch-armor so quickly. Usually it took him weeks to find the soft spots in a new master's armor, the blind spots in their vision; but this one was turning out to be a much easier puzzle than the rest. She was practically handing him the weapons he needed and saying 'Please, stab me.' 

She looked back at Sam, snapping her fingers. 

"Up."

Suddenly, Dean's heart leapt in his throat. The bitch was smarter than he thought- she was already using Sammy as a way to punish him, and he felt an overwhelming amount of guilt flood through him. He bowed forward, splaying his arms out in front of him and pressing his forehead to the floor, procumbent before her.

"I...am sorry...mistress," he hissed between gritted teeth, "I won't disrespect you again. Have...mercy."

She walked over to a large cabinet, filled with various instruments of punishment and erotic torture, chuckling to herself. Really? Did he think that pathetic excuse for an apology was going to keep her from meting out discipline? Intelligence, she supposed, was not a prerequisite for rebelliousness. 

"Oh no, Dean-o," she said, eying the toys slowly, "You're going to have to do much better than that. I wanna feel like you mean it." She snapped her fingers at Sam again, point her fingers at the ground in front of her. "Stand here."

When he approached, she pointed into the cabinet, the top row filled with whips and canes, a smile on her face. She had ferreted out Dean's weakness rather quickly- to get to him, she had to go through Sam. If the scars that decorated both their bodies were any indication, it was not a one way predicament- Dean, in turn, would be the best way to discipline Sam. 

"Pick. Choose wisely," she said coldly to Sam, watching his face carefully. She saw the barest flicker of hesitation, but as quickly as it was there, it was snuffed out by defeat. Sam knew the ruse. He knew it was hopeless.

She looked back at Dean, who was completely tensed up on the floor, with a smile on her face. Much better.

"You see, Dean, I am willing to be merciful. The amount of disrespect you just displayed would've ended with any other slave having their tongue cut out and fed back to them. I don't want to cut your tongue out on the first day here, that just wouldn't do. I have so many plans for that pretty, filthy mouth of yours."  
"I was the one who was disrespectful, punish me," Dean hissed, his hands balling into fists.  
"Oh, I am punishing you," she replied, "I'm getting impatient, Sam."

Castiel's eyes dodged from Dean to his new mistress, trying to calculate what she was about to do. If she was about to beat Sam in Dean's place, he supposed that it wasn't much of a difference from their last predicament. But something in Meg's eyes told him that anything he would predict would likely be wrong, and much worse. He grudgingly imitated Dean's form, head pressed to the floor.  
"Please, Mistress. Have mercy."  
Meg turned to Sam, who looked like he was sweating bullets.  
"I'll give him the choice," she said, stroking Sam's face, "Will your brother eat his own tongue, or will you choose?" she asked, her voice deadly soft.

Sam stood in front of the cabinet, looking at the whips and canes. If this demon was anything like Alistair, which she probably was, picking something that would do less damage to his body would only lead to worse punishment. Ignoring Dean and Cas, he stepped forward, grabbing the cat o' nine tails with nails embedded in the leather. It would hurt like a bitch, and probably tear up his back worse than it already was, but it would hopefully mean that the punishment was over sooner.

"Here, mistress."

Sam held out the whip, eyes focused on the ground. He pointedly ignored Dean's growl of anger. Regardless of what Dean wanted, Sam knew that he would be punished. Fighting back like Dean did was pointless. Sam preferred to bide his time, to wait and figure out if the demon had any weaknesses. He would do the same thing with this new mistress. Once Meg held the whip in her hand, Sam knelt and removed his shirt, head bowed in anticipation of the blows. He locked his jaw as tightly as he could, determined- as always- not to scream. His screaming made it worse for Dean, something that he hoped to avoid if he could. If he screamed and made Dean's self torture later worse, Castiel would make sure that Sam regretted it. He could do without the angel guilt, thank you very much.

She glanced at the weapon he held out to her, frankly a little surprised. A scourge, daring. Alistair must've been some kind of wonderful if that was Sam's first choice. She took the whip in her hand, though, watching him with cool, dead eyes as he removed his shirt and knelt, determined to make the impression she intended.

Dean stared at her with wide eyes, fury burning inside him as she swung the whip through the air lazily. Like it was a game. But then again, to her- it was.

"Now, Dean, let's see how smart you are. How many letters are in the word 'Whore'?"

Dean bit his lip so hard it began to bleed, staring at her. Of course he was infuriated, but he wasn't used to the...formality of the punishment. Most of their other masters, for such things, simply lashed out with whatever they had in hand until their blood lust was sated. But if Dean didn't know better, he'd say that she wasn't angry at all. In fact, she seemed almost...indifferent. 

"Five, mistress."

"Face down. You will count them and thank me."

All three of them had their eyes downcast, or so she thought, when she replaced the scourge and picked up a cat o' nine tails with thick metal beads embedded in the leather. She didn't want to disfigure him. She just wanted a lesson to be learned.

Castiel had noticed, watching her stealthily, feeling a surge of relief and curiosity. Why would she give up sport when Sam had so willingly handed it to her? He glanced over at Dean who looked fit to cry, his fists tight and white and his eyes squeezed shut. As if he himself had already been struck by the whip. 

She swung the leather down quickly, the snap filling the room with its echo.

"One, thank you mistress," Dean choked out.

She made no slow work of it, having had other plans for this day that didn't include beating them upon arrival. She lashed at Sam mercilessly, Dean's count almost unable to keep up, and it was over quickly.

She walked over to Dean, grabbing his hair and lifting his face.

"Kiss it, and say thank you," she commanded.  
Dean's eyes were still squeezed close as he pressed his lips against the leather, tears streaming down his face. It was still warm from it's lash against his brother's skin, wet from the tears that messily dripped from the curve of his nose onto it.  
"Thank you, mistress."

She turned away from him, putting her foot in front of Sam and dangling the whip in front of his face.

"You too, Boy."

Sam bit his lip hard enough to break it as he was lashed, almost crying out several times from the pain of it all. Every time he was tempted to cry out, he forced his eyes open, staring at his brother and swallowing his screams. From the first lash it was obvious that Meg had changed the whip for one less damaging, for which he was grateful. Dean was an absolute nightmare when Sam had broken skin. Even so, he would have a hell of a bruised back. When Meg held the whip in front of his face, Sam barely leaned forward to kiss it, cringing as his broken lips touched the warm leather.

"Thank you, mistress."

His voice was cracked and hoarse from the screams he had contained, but he was glad that he had contained them. If there was anything that Sam had learned over the years, it was that Dean would tear himself up over the smallest injury done to his brother. As the abuse had gotten worse, especially with Alistair, Dean had gotten better about it, but Sam knew that it still made his brother feel sick to hear Sam scream. He loved his brother too much to let him torture himself any more than he already did. Sam lifted his eyes slightly, gazing at Meg's knees. He waited for further instruction from his mistress, praying she would let him return to his brother so he could reassure Dean with gentle touches.

She nodded in satisfaction, tossing the whip back into the cabinet haphazardly. The point had been made sufficiently.

"I think we can all agree now that there won't be anymore disrespect, can't we?" she said, slamming the cabinet doors shut. She decided to herself then and there that she would not show mercy to Sam again. If he expected hell, she would give it to him when it didn't interfere with her plans.  
"Disrespect me again, and we will be obliging Sam in his taste for pain. And you will be the one administering it. Am I clear?"

Dean opened his eyes, prepared to see his brother half alive, but was relieved that there was no blood- only vicious bruises. His rage with this demonic bitch was overridden, at the moment, with relief that it was not as bad as it could've been.

"Crystal, mistress," he replied, his eyes locked on Sam's, communicating his apologies, his guilt. _I didn't mean it, Sammy,_ he wanted to say.

Castiel watched the two of them staring at each other with irritation. If Dean could only keep his mouth shut, then he wouldn't have to deal with Sam being punished. And if Sam was better at taking punishment, perhaps Dean wouldn't feel such horrible guilt all the time. Cas knew that he was being cold, harsh, but he didn't care. Years of slavery would do that to even the strongest angel.

"Unfortunately, this little detour has wasted my time, and I am not fond of wasted time. Sam, you may return to your brother. You will stay here until I return." Meg turned, sweeping out of the room and locking the door behind her.

Dean listened for the sound of her footsteps before grabbing his brother tightly, looking him over.  
"That fucking bitch," he hissed, brushing his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair, "I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't think she'd hurt you, not already."  
"That was a completely stupid assumption then, Dean," Castiel snapped, "Perhaps you should both just be thankful that she didn't flay him alive, and that you didn't end up eating your own tongue." He glared at the two of them harshly, unblinking.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam leaned against Dean's shoulder and kept his eyes closed. "Castiel is right. We should be thankful that it wasn't worse. This was nothing. Nothing to worry about."

It was true, the bruises were nothing compared to the injuries he'd faced before. He could handle the bruises. Sam carefully ignored the derision in Cas's voice as he pulled away from Dean, not meeting the angel's eyes. He stood up, shucking his pants and carefully stretching his back. "I'm going to go take a bath. I smell like a pig sty." He continued to avoid Castiel's gaze as he patted Dean's shoulder.

"You should get some sleep, dude. You look like shit." Moving away from the other two, Sam opened doors until he found one that led to the bathing chamber, closing it behind him before he collapsed on the floor. The punishment had been nothing stellar, that much was true. Alistair had given him worse over lesser offenses. Yet, as always, he felt raw. He knew that every time he faced punishment, Dean felt guilty. He also knew that Castiel blamed Sam for Dean's guilt, for Dean's love for him. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd done to make Castiel hate him the way he did, but the angel had blamed him for almost everything since the day that they met. Shortly after, when he realized that Cas was in love with Dean, it had gotten worse. As held the belief that if Sam cared for his brother, he would die. He would put Dean out of the misery of watching him suffer and just disappear. The fact that Sam did fight back, that he did stay strong, angered the angel. Sam knew it was because Cas hated to see Dean so broken, but that didn't make it sting any less. Nothing could make it sting less.

Dean held his brother against his shoulder, his blood boiling as Sam agreed with Cas. No, they shouldn't be thankful for anything. This wasn't how things were supposed to be! They should be torturing her. She was the demon. She should be the one crawling at their feet.

"I'm gonna fucking worry, Sammy," he muttered, kissing his brother's forehead softly. He glared at Cas as Sam pulled away and wandered off to get a shower.

"Fucking really, Cas?" Dean demanded, "He just got fucking beat for what I did and you're going to sit there be such an asshole about it?"  
"I wasn't being an 'asshole', Dean. I was being truthful. I watched her put the scourge back. She wanted to teach him a lesson but she was shocked by Sam's choice. It's as if he wants you to be half out of your mind with guilt."

Dean glared at him, angry tears glistening in his eyes.

"Fuck you. You know damn well why he picked that."  
"Perhaps if you weren't so foul mouthed."  
"What, and just lay down at her feet like you did? I don't know how the hell you could possibly accept this life. Thousands upon thousands of years of freedom, and you give in like that?"  
"I didn't give in Dean. I got smart."  
"Yeah, well you and your smarts can fucking blow me."

Dean stood up, stomping away and trying to find a corner of the floor to sleep in. He had no idea where this bitch wanted them to sleep, so he figured the floor was as good a place as any. He curled tightly into a ball, his hands pressed against the sides of his head, trying to drown out the past.

The sound of Sam's screams, the sound of his voice begging him to stop hurting him, parroted at Alistair's command. He rocked back and forth, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing that death would just take him and his brother together, so they could end this misery. But no, he was trapped. With an angel who was useless and a brother who had known nothing but torture and torment.

Sam waited long enough for Dean to fall asleep before he left the bathroom, gaze immediately zeroing in on Castiel. He stayed far enough away from the angel that guarded his brother so faithfully, leaning back against the door he'd just closed behind him. Taking a deep breath, he spoke.

"I know you don't like me. I can't really blame you. If it wasn't for me, Dean wouldn't be nearly as miserable as he is." Sam looked down at his overly-large hands,"That isn't a reason to take it out on Dean, though. He already has to deal with enough. I mean, he's got a useless little brother who gets beat to a pulp on a regular basis, and we've been slaves since he was four. It sucks. But Dean needs you to be... you, I guess. He needs someone who's as protective of him as he is of me. So... maybe just... be Dean's Dean? Just... I don't know. Do something other than being your usual, stoic self. Show him you care instead of just getting mad when I go and do something stupid again."

He looked back up at the angel and shrugged.

"I don't care what you think about me, or why you hate my guts. I'm probably not going to be around forever. Hell, I'm surprised I've managed to hang on this long, considering what Alistair did. But Dean, he's in good shape. He'll be around a while. Don't make him think he's alone. Cut him some slack. If you really need to be so derisive and hurtful to someone, you already know I can take it. Hell, you think I deserve it. So just stop messing with Dean, okay? He doesn't need it."

With that, Sam dragged a blanket off of Meg's bed and covered his brother up before retreating to the corner closest to the bed, making himself into as small a ball as possible. Alistair had conditioned him to stay as far from Dean as possible when the demon wasn't in the room, had taken away the physical comfort that Dean offered to him. From habit, he made sure he was close to where Meg would be and far from his brother, no matter how much he wanted to be near him. Settling down in a way that didn't stretch at his bruises, Sam fell in to a nightmare-filled sleep.

Castiel sat silently, for once letting Sam say what he had to say. He felt a flare of fury as Sam demanded that he stop "messing" with Dean. He wasn't "messing" with Dean- he was trying to get him smarter, trying to make him see the way things were, rather than how he wanted them to be. That was the worst part about him, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about a time that no longer existed, when humans were free. Once he put that stupidity out of his head, everything would be better.

He mulled over Sam's accusation. He didn't hate Sam, particularly. He certainly didn't care for him, though. And he certainly didn't care for the fact that Sam seemed to always be the one causing him pain in one way or another. But it wasn't as if he himself wanted to hurt the abomination. He wouldn't dirty his hands with something so insignificant and sullied like him. He remembered what he had done, the filthy perversions he had committed while his pure and righteous brother's back was turned. The ways that he had given himself to the demons like a whore, all while his brother desperately defended him. 

"I am protecting him," Castiel said clearly, his back pressed against the wall, "I am teaching him. I don't have to teach you. You are...accustomed to slavery. I also have adapted. He has not. You seem to think that gentleness will teach him- but when have you seen a gentle hand bring about anything in him?"

He stared at Sam's huddled form on the floor, "You're wrong, though. I don't care what happens to you. I am indifferent to you, boy. I only care that you are often the conduit of his suffering."  
He turned back to look at Dean, his hard eyes softening, "He is unsullied. Even in the den of evil, he does not prostrate himself at their feet. Unlike you, their favorite toy. Willing. Desiring of them. I see your filth, boy. I witnessed your perversion. Don't be foolish enough to think otherwise." He returned his gaze to Sam's back.

"But you are right about one thing. You will meet your end long before him. And it will be by your own doing. I know that as well as I know anything."

 


End file.
